


Underlying Structures

by Keenir



Category: Bourne Identity (2002), Bourne Supremacy (2004), Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-24
Updated: 2011-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-21 17:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keenir/pseuds/Keenir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack O'Neill vs Jason Bourne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underlying Structures

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to: People who send feedback.
> 
> summary: Jack O’Neill vs. Jason Bourne.
> 
> spoilers: The Bourne Identity, The Bourne Supremacy.
> 
> spoilers: COTG, 48 Hours, The Tomb, (probably some others)...
> 
> pairing: J/To.
> 
> warning: I need to practice whumping. I get the feeling that I’m the proverbial 99 lb weakling when it comes to that field...when I could be -- according to my muses -- the 99 stone weakling.
> 
> disclaimer: I don’t own any of the canon characters...I only own the OFCs and overall plot of this story.  
> note: this fic is a prequel to the drabble “Breaking News”.

NOVEMBER 7TH 2004

 

Pamela Landy got into her car, sat down, and closed the door; about to buckle her seat belt when -

 

“Hey Pam.”

 

She startled, having not heard that voice for a month. Looking in the rearview mirror, she saw him sitting in the back seat. ‘He must’ve hid when I was walking up to the car’ she thought to herself. “Can I help you with something, Mr. Webb?”

 

His face didn’t even show a flicker of emotion. Too well trained. “That’s not me.”

 

“But -”

 

“I went there,” he told her, “tracked down the Webbs...and talked to them.”

 

“And?”

 

“The only Webb who’s ever lived there, is an eighty-five-year-old man with a wife ten years younger than he is. Neither of them ever had kids, never adopted.” He paused. “I need you to look again. If I’m not David Webb...” leaving unsaid the _then who am I?_

 

“I’ll do what I can,” Landy told him. “I can’t make any promises.”

 

Didn’t nod -- again, training. “Never asked you to,” and started to get out of the car. “By the way, you might want to check this car’s oil.”

 

“You sure? I just had it changed -”

 

A tiny grin. “Trust me; I found it while I was waiting for your meeting to end,” and, with not a word more, got out of the car, walking across the parking lot.

 

~~

NOVEMBER 9TH 2004

 

“Got it!” one of the computer technicians called out.

 

“Got what?” Landy asked, walking over to that terminal.

 

“One of Conklin’s folders was encrypted more than any of the others...its taken til now to open it.”

 

“And...?” she prodded.

 

Double-clicking on the folder icon, he watched as the folder opened, taking up the entire screen.

 

All the files automatically opened. ‘Conklin must’ve figured that, if somebody got this far, it was time to spare nobody,’ Landy thought to herself, looking at the mass of files.

 

_Lot Program g2: Lot Project_ read the large-font header for one page.

 

There were also photographs that’d been scanned in at some point. Under each mug shot, there was a name. Landy recognized more than half of them from the initial files found when she’d started tracking down Bourne. But some of them...

 

_Tolinev, E. / S / Rus.

 

_Kinsey, (-). / P / USA._

 

...she didn’t recognize. And one of the files, marked with an ‘S’, had no photo. But a few of the names, she did...

 

_Conklin, (-). / P / USA.

 

_Abbott, W. / P / USA.

 

_Bourne, J. / S / USA._

 

‘’S’ must mean ‘subject’,’ Landy thought to herself, seeing that Bourne’s data didn’t tell his real name. None of the subjects had anything but their assigned names. ‘And ‘P’...for ‘Patron’.’

 

“The Senator’s involved in this?” the technician asked.

 

“‘Senator’?” Landy asked.

 

“Sure...a few months ago, there was this big thing in the news, all about an attempt on Senator Kinsey’s life.

 

Landy looked at the date that Kinsey’d last been involved with the Lot Program. “Two years.” Two years before Bourne had jumped ship -- literally and figuratively. “I think its time I paid a visit to the good Senator,” Landy said. “See what he can tell me about the Lot Project.”

 

~~=

NOVEMBER 11TH 2004

 

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Senator,” Landy said as she was admitted into his house.

 

“It is my pleasure,” Kinsey said. “I suspect this isn’t a social call.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Have a seat,” Kinsey offered.

 

Landy noticed that Kinsey had a dog. A large dog. Lying next to the chairs that Kinsey was motioning her towards. “Yours?”

 

“Yes,” he said. “Don’t worry about Oscar, he won’t betray a confidence.”

 

‘I should hope not,’ Landy thought to herself.

 

“Now,” Kinsey said once they were both sitting down, “What did you come all this way to see me about?”

 

Landy took one of the folders out of her briefcase, placing it on the table between them. “Lot.”

 

He didn’t touch the folder. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“It’s all in there...or what I think is all of it. I’d appreciate your candor regarding it.”

 

“And I would appreciate being told what you’re fishing for,” Kinsey said flatly.

 

“Two years before they lost one of their agents, the Lot Project lost you -- or, more specifically, they lost your support,” Landy said. “Why is that?”

 

Kinsey shifted his posture, as though there was an itch from the back of his chair. “Something else came to my attention.”

 

“Something bigger than Lot?”

 

“At the time, I had thought so.”

 

“But not anymore?” hearing the notes in his voice -- notes that told of thwarted/disappointed plans.

 

“That’s right. Is there anything else?” Kinsey asked.

 

“One more thing,” Landy said, pulling a final folder from her briefcase, handing it to Kinsey. “Do you recognize this name?”

 

Flipping open the folder, “I do,” scanning the page. ‘To my great inconvenience thus far, I do.’

 

“Did you have anything to do with its current placement?” ‘Do you even know where this one is?’

 

“No. To the contrary, I’ve done everything in my power to have him moved to a more suitable location.”

 

“Then you have current data on - him?”

 

“Very.”

 

“Do you know where this one is?” Landy asked, keeping it impersonal. It was the only survivor - that she knew of - from the ‘g1’ rankings. Tolinev and Bourne were both ‘g2’.

 

Looking at the name on the file, Kinsey smiled. “I believe I can even arrange a meeting.”

 

The name was _O’Neill, J._

 

~~

SEPTEMBER 20TH 2004

 

Taking shelter after his team was safely sheltered behind the same cluster of overturned millstones, “You okay, Teal’c?” Jack asked. “Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

“Her name is Hanniyu, O’Neill. Loyal servant of the goa’uld Yu. It has been many years since I had seen her.”

 

“Childhood crush?” Jack guessed.

 

“We were both adults. It was one year before I killed Hanno’s father.”

 

“Oh.”

 

~~

NOVEMBER 19TH 2004

 

The rings returned to the ship, and Hanniyu took her first steps upon this sunburning world. Her jaffa followed her loyally, trusting her as much as any member of SG1 trusted O’Neill...though these jaffa didn’t think of it in those terms.

 

Hanniyu glared at the sunbaked earth, while more jaffa were being ringed down to the planet. The natives, she knew from study, would detect a ship landing...but a ring transport could pass right by without their noticing.

 

She could still recall her lord’s words to her before she departed: _You nearly failed me once before, Hanniyu,_ Yu the Great had told her. _Do not fail me twice._ Elaboration wasn’t needed.

 

Decades ago, Yu had rewarded her diligence and loyalty by making her a jaffa. Things made could be unmade.

 

Hanniyu led the advance scouting party to search the ruins. ‘I shall indeed find the Eye.’

 

~~

NOVEMBER 20TH 2004

 

Jason Bourne reclined on his belly, looking down through binoculars at the military complex. Landy’d told him where to find this place, leaving it up to him to find a way in -- without leaving a trail of bodies, she’d specified. Once he was inside, he was to contact her, and she’d come in as well...her way.

 

“There’d better be answers,” Jason muttered to himself as he raised himself to a crouch, slowly heading down towards Cheyanne Base. ‘Time to get started...’

 

~~

NOVEMBER 22ND 2004

 

In the room they overlooked, the stargate was idle. In the briefing room, O’Neill and Tolinev were loitering, just standing around, waiting for their commanding officers to arrive & begin telling them about their next mission.

 

“Bit belated,” Jack said, “but welcome back.”

 

“Thank you,” she told him. “I would say that it is good to be back, however...” and pointedly didn’t look at the stargate.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that -- hopefully second time’s the charm.”

 

“I did not come here for charms,” Tolinev said. Jack smiled at her. “I said -”

 

“I heard ya.”

 

“Then why...did you do what you did?”

 

“Just trying to get you to relax a little. You can stand at attention when the higher-ups get here. Til then, how ‘bout you stand at ease a bit.”

 

“I...cannot.”

 

“Can’t or won’t?” Jack joked. When she didn’t answer, “C’mon,” Jack said, “I swear, I won’t tell anybody -- not even the docs here.”

 

Sighing, Tolinev relented. “It is the lights here. They feel too bright.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You do?”

 

Nodding, “Sure do. Got the same problem. But nothing I can do about that. Besides, I just ignore the lights...put my energy into fighting whomever we’re fighting at the moment.”

 

Tolinev nodded. “Da. I do the same...but it is still brighter here than in the facility we used in Petrograd.”

 

“I thought you kept the stargate in Siberia.”

 

“It was often moved from site to site; the problem with it, that brought SG-1 to Russia, occured within days of arrival in Siberia.”

 

Jack considered that...it certainly didn’t clash with what little’d trickled down to him about the Russian ‘gate. ‘And, assuming it could be kept under wraps, that moving-it-around’s probably a good idea for us too,’ Jack thought to himself.

 

Just then, Hammond walked up the steps, followed by Chekov, and two guys - one from each country’s stargate teams. Jack thought the Russian one looked a little familiar, though the American one didn’t...and Jack shrugged. ‘Can’t remember everybody. Besides, maybe he’s new.’

 

“This everybody?” Jack asked.

 

Hammond nodded, and both O’Neill and Tolinev took a seat at the table. So did Hammond, Chekov, and the other two.

 

“The four of you,” Chekov said, “will be returning to the second world that our stargate programs collaborated in regards to.”

 

“Nirrti’s world?” Jack asked.

 

“The planet where you uncovered and lost the Eye of Tiamat, Colonel,” Hammond said.

 

“Thought that was our first one, General.”

 

“Our respective Presidents both agree that the first instance of stargate cooperation between our countries, Colonel, took place in Russia.”

 

“Oh. That mission.”

 

Tolinev muttered something.

 

From what Jack knew of the Russian language, Tolinev was appearantly saying something about hoping for the best, prepared for the worst.

 

“When do we depart?” asked the other Russian.

 

“In half an hour,” Chekov said.

 

“Thor has assured me,” Hammond told everyone, “that he will personally be providing air support, though he doubts we’ll need it.”

 

“Nice to know he’ll be watching our six,” Jack said.

 

“Both American *and* Russian sixes,” the other Russian said. Jack ignored him.

 

All four stargaters stood up and saluted -- Jack put some effort into his, trying to be polite this time -- and were dismissed from the room.

 

The Carters were out chatting up some high-tech birds elsewhere in the galaxy. Teal’c was helping Ryac get ready for...he’d explained it as the jaffa version of Little League, before he’d left. And Jonas, well he was down in the Infirmary, combatting a case of Chicken Pox...and it wasn’t a pretty sight. ‘Shoulda never loaned him my copy of _War of the Worlds_,’ Jack thought to himself, ‘not after all the times I read it when me and Charlie had the Chicken Pox.’

 

As the four of this rushed-together team were heading down to finish prepping for the upcoming mission, Jack read the name tags...

 

_O’NEILL_

 

_TOLINEV_

 

_NAVORSKY_

 

_BOURNE_

 

Jack refrained from asking the one guy if he was related to Viktor Navorsky...he could still vividly recall the RAF pilot who’d asked Jack if Jack was related to what’d been the Irish royal family.

 

And the other guy...Jack didn’t recognize the name at all.

 

~~=(author’s notes: the ‘E’ was already done...though I was hoping for something better, which was indeed supplied - THANKS!!!).

 

Once the stargate closed, a “Impressive” was spoken behind Hammond and Chekov.

 

They turned around, and saw a woman there that, as far as they knew, didn’t have authorization to be in here...or even on the mountain. “Who exactly are you?”

 

“Pamela Landy,” she introduced herself. “I take it you’re General Hammond?”

 

“I am.”

 

“And he is...?”

 

“Colonel Chekov. May I ask what you think you’re doing here?”

 

“I’m here to talk to you, General.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“It concerns Colonel O’Neill.”

 

“What about him?” wondering if her way into the mountain also told her about the Colonel.

 

“I have a few questions.” Tougher, “And I’m not leaving until I get some answers.”

 

“We’ll see about that,” and nodded to the SPs.

 

“Not a good idea,” as they approached, and flipped the clicking latches on her briefcase, pulling a paper out expertly.

 

Hammond nodded, and one of the SPs stopped where she was, while the other one took the paper and handed it to Hammond, who examined it.

 

“The way I see it, General,” Landy said, “either you play ball with me, or you see how long this facility can run without electricity.”

 

It was an effective threat, Hammond knew. Even if one ignored everything else, the stargate’s iris relied upon electricity...either leave the iris open, or leave it locked -- both options had profound implications for the SGC. And there weren’t yet enough naquadah generators to power the Mountain...not for more than a day or two, certainly.

 

The reason for that was simple: every generator, save one tiny one that was undergoing repairs, had been requisitioned for use in the various X-30_ vessels.

 

“Shall we use my office?” Hammond asked. ‘Or the briefing room?’

 

“Lead the way,” Landy said.

 

Chekov stayed in the computer room, watching the stargate.

 

~~

Lieutenant Ekaterina Agnessa Tolinev -- Agnessa Tolinev to her friends -- stepped through the stargate, putting her foot down on the cooked surface of this planet. Now, just like the last time she’d come to this bedeviled planet, she repressed a shudder. The ground here was as solid as the northern ice in the depths of winter, and the road bore a chilling resembalance to the Road Of Bones back in Siberia.

 

With the press of those thoughts, the nightmares formed from listening to her uncles talk about the years when Stalin had punished the family...Agnessa didn’t even notice the fiery inferno high in the sky overhead -- again.

 

A skittering sound struck her ears, raising her hackles, raising her weapon.

 

Seeing her move, Jack did likewise, and the other two followed his example. Scanning the horizon, he looked and looked. ‘Nothing? Or just something invisible? I’m really getting sick of that last option.’

 

“The wind,” Bourne said, lowering his AK-47. “That’s all it is.”

 

“Don’t be too quick,” O’Neill said, “to jump to conclusions.”

 

Hearing it again, Agnessa hid a blush. He was right. “I thought...I thought it was something else.” ‘A particular something,’ she thought, also hiding a shudder. ‘That crawling thing, is dead, yes? Yes, it must certainly be. It is,’ she told herself. Patting the P-90 she’d been given by the SGC armory officers, Agnessa comforted herself with the thought that, this time, she’d be prepared; this time, it would be the crawler that suffered.

 

‘I may not be able to make *its* blood vessels fill with crystalized blood plasma, but I vow that I shall make it know pain and suffering firsthand,’ she thought firmly, as the wind made still more skittering sounds as it played against the parched planet surface. Even the loose soil had baked into a solid mass. Gravel cooked away, returning to the earth. Agnessa suspected that, if anyone ever laid asphalt upon this world, the pitch would boil away. This planet’s sound beneath the tread of boots was distinct, unique.

 

“I can see why a goa’uld would like this place, this planet,” said Navorsky.

 

“Yeah?” O’Neill said.

 

“Why’s that?” Bourne asked, still a little unclear on what a goa’uld was...from what he’d picked up thus far, the goa’uld were the foes, the opponents, the rivals...but for what aim?

 

“No water,” Navorsky said. “What better means to keep a population in check?”

 

“...and under control,” Jack said, nodding but not liking what he was agreeing to.

 

~~

Hanniyu watched from amidst the ruins, watched O’Neill coming towards her. O’Neill and three other humans. O’Neill, the one who had been responsible for her failure to capture SG1 the last time, as well as for her mission failure during that same conflaguration.

 

Each member of the Tauri group had two flasks. ‘Water, most likely, here,’ Hanniyu thought to herself. ‘One for toward the ruins, and one for returning to the stargate.’ Her eyesight was literally hawk-like, seeing both normally and far away with equal accuity. Another gift from the Goa’uld -- from the Word of Yu.

 

‘I *will* not fail!’

 

Using jaffa hand signs, she instructed her team to prepare for the Tauri arrival in the ruins. She had plans for them, particularly for O’Neill.

 

~~=

Jason Bourne guarded one flank of the group, considering how to find out what he needed to know. It wasn’t exactly something that came up in normal conversations. But he did know that O’Neill knew...something...had to. ‘And if he doesn’t tell me, willingly,’ Bourne thought to himself, ‘I can probably think of a few ways to convince him. After all, if the ‘g1’s were given adequate training, why would they have made ‘g2’s ?

 

Something exploded ahead of them on the road, less than ten meters ahead. It’d been a flat thing before, and still was. No shrapnel, bits of metal or road went flying; only sound struck out.

 

‘Concussion grenade,’ Jason recognized. ‘How did I -?...Probably more of the past I don’t remember. Great.’

 

But the sound wasn’t all that the abandoned device had to offer. Mere seconds later, Navorsky collapsed to his knees, falling over, clapping one hand over that ear, while trying to focus his vision - and his P-90 at something hostile; meanwhile, Tolinev, O’Neill, and Bourne wobbled and pitched from one side to the other. They were handling it better, but not because they were trained against jaffa technology -- but, rather, in case of events in planes, submarines, trains, and various other agents of disorientation -- such as fairgrounds and carnivals, as well.

 

“All together, now,” Jack nearly stuttered out, seeing that he wasn’t the only one affected in a similar fashion as he was...and he, Tolinev, and Bourne took aim, and fired at the mine. Not every shot struck the mine.

 

But enough struck the mine, that it was rendered moot.

 

Once the mine was no more, Jack helped Navorsky to his feet. “I...I don’t know just what happened, Colonel...” Navorsky said.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack said. “Might be a delayed reaction to ‘gate travel, or the mine might just affect people different when they’re farther away.” Navorsky had been walking behind everyone else, guarding their sixes.

 

“I suppose.”

 

“Trust me; lots of things out there...don’t always work the way we think they do.”

 

That said, Jack wondered just who had laid the mine out for them. ‘Who knows we’re here?’

 

“I think we’ve got company,” Bourne said.

 

~~

SEPTEMBER 21ST 2004

 

Sweat beaded across her face and hands, running a cleansing river across the dirt-covered skin. Hanniyu kept her staff weapon open and aimed at SG-1.

 

SG-1 stopped in their collective tracks, their improvised escape now cut off. Carter tried backing up, only for staff blasts to go off behind her. The same result for either side of the clearing that SG-1 was passing through.

 

“Weren’t you behind us?” Jack asked.

 

“Part of my army is,” was as much as she’d confirm for him.

 

“How’d ya know we were going to go through here?”

 

“I did not. I simply prepared my army in relation to the entire diameter around the stargate.”

 

“Cool.”

 

No response dignifying that.

 

“Sir, I’m not sensing any naquadah,” Carter said.

 

“Nor do I,” Teal’c seconded. To Hanniyu, “You removed your symbiote for the purpose of ambushing us.”

 

Hanniyu didn’t nod -- not part of her cultural heritage. “Quite. I studied the material available about you four Tauri.”

 

“I am a jaffa,” Teal’c corrected her.

 

“You do not fight in a jaffa army,” she snapped at him. “Nor even a jaffa squad.” By now, her breaths were almost gulps. “Camoflage is not purely visual.”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Jack asked, “don’t you need a snake to stay healthy?” Hanniyu glared at him, the effect almost ruined by sweat dripping from off her brow. “I’m just asking.”

 

“Your concern is notable,” she told him.

 

“Thanks.” She said nothing to that. “So, you expecting us to march somewhere?”

 

“In time, you shall.”

 

Jack checked his watch. “Is it soon, or can I go home for a bit...there’s a game on, ya see, and -”

 

“Silence,” she said.

 

“Make me.”

 

She didn’t shrug -- same reason as not nodding. “If you insist,” and reached for him.

 

Jack batted her hand away. Again and again, each attempt growing more fierce -- each of them being more forceful, if seemingly casual about their motions. The staff weapon clattered against a tree three meters away. Reactions faster and faster, even as Hanniyu sweated.

 

It took a few minutes, but Jack eventually had her on her back, wrists and ankles tied up. He patted her on her belly’s X. “Tell Yu we’ll take a rain check, ‘kay?”

 

Hanniyu’s glare was as harsh as the sun over Per-Tiamat.

 

As SG-1 finished the rest of the way towards the stargate, “You should not have done that, O’Neill,” Teal’c said. ‘But what has been done is what is done. We can not change the past...lacking Ancient technology.’

 

“You’d prefer to be captured?” Jack asked, not entirely serious -- had Teal’c not been his friend, then the question would have been entirely serious.

 

“I would not. But of what I know of her, she will come after us with a single-minded ferocity.”

 

“We’ll keep the light on for her.”

 

Almost as an afterthought, Teal’c added, “And I was not speaking of your fighting her.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“One does not... ‘pat’ ...the pouch of someone they defeat in battle. It is...” searching for the right word, guessing at the accuracy of the English term, “...unseemly.”

 

~~

 

Even in the shade, the heat of Per-Tiamat’s sun seemed to reflect off the rocks. The planet was an oven. And it wasn’t even summer yet, Hanniyu knew.

 

The Eye of Tiamat was in there, she knew, somewhere amidst these collapsed walls. She held a piece of the mud-brick in her hand. ‘Either there is liquid water here, during the winter; or Marduk imported water for the construction of his edifaces.’

 

She worked alongside the jaffa she had brought here. ‘O’Neill has been dealt with. Even if he and his new team survive the mines we have laid out for them, there is another surprise...one that the mines will bring to the surface.’

 

The mines were a side-development, constructed around a principle that the goa’uld had discovered when they had begun to build starships. It did not manipulate gravity; it merely felt like it, particularly to unmodified humans, with their sensitive inner ear - the sixth sense: balance.

 

As for what would rise to the surface, that was only a hunch she’d had, using the sight of foot-sized tunnels carved into the stone-earth ground...and jaffa myths.

 

~~=

From out of the holes that sprinkled the planet’s surface layer, there erupted a vast moving blob.

 

‘No,’ Jack realized. The thing wasn’t a blob...it was a heaving mass of tiny things.

 

They didn’t sound like Replicators, even though Jack didn’t know if those other things had a heat problem. And these things *here* were almost -- ‘yep, just so’ -- like insects. A horde of army ants.

 

And they had only two possible moods, from what Jack could recall of nature documentaries: pissed off, and hungry. Both ended pretty much the same.

 

Pulling a zat from his belt, Jack took aim and fired at the ant-things. The mass collapsed onto the ground, not moving at all. Not even an antennae. Did they have antennae?

 

Then out from the holes came the second wave, identical to the first. Jack fired again, only for the energy to flow from the second wave, through the first wave and the top‘soil’, and through the bodies of the four Tauri.

 

“Ow,” Jack said, a sound echoed by pretty much everyone else in the group. A flash of light burned just for an instant behind his eyes...’just like most ev’ry other time I get zatted’ he thought to himself. The second wave, he saw, had met the same fate as the first...but a third wave was already emerging...

 

...And Jack didn’t relish getting zatted a second time.

 

~~

SEPTEMBER 21ST 2004

 

Her troops rejoined her shortly after SG-1 had left -- by coincidence, not design: a fact bolstered by the speed with which the Tauri had fled. In the first row of troops to reach her, was one who carried her symbiote in his hands...and another who shouted “Failure! You allowed them to escape?”

 

The troops stopped when they surrounded her, their commander. “You stand accusing me?” she asked.

 

“I do so! You cast aside your God like you were one of those Rebels!”

 

She looked at him, saw the ponytail that hung from one side of his skull -- a Horus Lock, a thing he had retained even after fleeing the destruction of the Army of Horus at the hands of Apophis.

 

Before he could react, she had plunged a trembling, sweating hand into his pouch...and pulled out his symbiote. It was one thing to stand accused of failure; it was quite another to stand accused of apostasy.

 

Hanniyu held the man’s symbiote in her hands, and found the strength to snap the larva in twain. “I will formally mourn for the passing of the goa’uld whom you have corrupted unto death,” she told him. “You, on the other hand, shall be brought before the justices, and in your current condition, as well.” Her troops grabbed him, pulling him away, dragging him away.

 

Hanniyu did not hide the wince as sharp jabs struck the inside of her skull, followed by pains to her heart and lungs. Her body was preparing to shut down. Looking at what she held in her other hand, the unbloodied hand, she saw that her symbiote was barely wiggling, very weak by now. Survival was not ensured, even should they be reunited.

 

Recalling a detail about some of her troops, she called one of them to the fore. “Will you accept this gift from your commanding jaffa?” she asked, holding out the symbiote. Her gut clenched pained as her body continued down the uneasy hillslope of failure. One hope remained.

 

The jaffa she spoke to, one Enkindu of the Byrmai Fissure, replied, “If I may reciprocate with another gift,” reaching into his own pouch, pulling his own symbiote out, holding it out to her.

 

It was not a form of courtship, Hanniyu knew: it was simply a jaffa tradition that some jaffa clans had opted to do away with. “I accept,” and took the symbiote he held out, placing it into her pouch; her symbiote went into his pouch.

 

~~

PRESENT

 

‘If I am to revenge upon O’Neill,’ Hanniyu thought to herself, ‘then I must rescue him from the sweep of Mot’s forces. I must do the same even if only to bring him before my lord Yu, and give the Tauri to Yu as a gift, a gladly-given example further of my loyalty.’

 

She came to a decision, and motioned Enkindu to her side. “I am departing for the conflict, and taking one other with me.”

 

He bowed his head. “I would gratefully accept such a task.”

 

“You would, I am certain. I instead task you with a greater responsibility.”

 

“I accept what tasks you set before me.”

 

“I leave you in command of these jaffa here. Find the Eye of Tiamat, and return to our lord Yu. I will rejoin the Celestial Court in one fashion or another, be assured of that.” Translation: I’ll be back, dead or alive. “I entrust authority to you, Enkindu.”

 

Another bow from him. “I shall neither waver nor disappoint,” he vowed.

 

The other jaffa heard the transfer of power, heard the silence of Hanniyu’s departure, nor the quiet-soft steps of the jaffa she took with her...towards the stargate...towards the Tauri...towards the army of Mot.

 

~~

In the SGC,

 

“How do we know that any of this is accurate?” Hammond asked Landy as he and Chekov reviewed the folders she’d made available to them.

 

“I know this is accurate,” Landy said, “the same way you know that documents regarding the stargate are accurate.”

 

‘This would explain many things about O’Neill,’ Chekov thought to himself; “particularly his overzealous enthusiasm to eliminate anyone he does not personally regard as essential to the completion of his mission -- or to his own survival.’ But he didn’t say that aloud...he refused to give Landy the satisfaction of seeing division in the ranks among the two primary Stargate Powers on Earth.

 

“Where did you come by this... ‘information’ as you say?” Chekov asked, deliberately thickening his accent.

 

“One man pointed the way,” Landy said, “but once he’d done that, I found the paper trail by borrowing time on a NASA satilite.” She shook her head sadly. “I’m surprised that Al Qaeda hasn’t stumbled onto this by now, given how many people know about it.” Before either man could counter that remark, “Relax, gentlemen, the CIA cleaned up your mess; they’re showing quite a bit of interest in your findings thus far.”

 

‘Swell,’ Hammond thought to himself. ‘First the NID...now we’re forced to deal with the CIA ?’ “We report directly to the President...s of our two nations,” quickly turning the sentance from singular to plural. If Chekov noticed, as he probably did, he gave no indication of it.

 

Landy simply gave a small smile. “So do we -- to the President of the United States of America. If you’d like to make a call, please do.”

 

Hammond tensed. He’d been about to suggest they contact the President...but when she’d brought it up, he had a feeling that the President was going to side with her...and not neccessarily tell Hammond why. ‘Or is she bluffing?’

 

~~=

Shooting the things wasn’t a problem, Jack saw. Hitting them was. After all, the things were the size of bullets in the first place.

 

But that didn’t stop the four of them from shooting at the insects.

 

For all the good it was -- wasn’t -- doing.

 

‘Crap!’

 

~~

SP Y. Vanunu walked the Tok’ra up to the debriefing room. The Tok’ra was wearing an American General’s uniform, fully decked-out. _CARTER_ read the tag.

 

Vanunu’d just finished escorting another Tok’ra -- one not wearing Earth clothes; instead, it was the clothing of another world -- to the debriefing room, when the klaxons had sounded...sounding slightly *off*, slightly different from normal. General Hammond had asked Vanunu to see who was here.

 

So, now he was walking another Tok’ra up. He knew this one was Tok’ra, since he’d seen the same person wearing Tok’ra clothes & talking with a Tok’ra voice.

 

Holding the debriefing room door open for the snake, Vanunu closed the door after him & resumed standing guard.

 

“Welcome back to Earth, General Carter,” Chekov said before Hammond or Jacob could say anything, and before Landy could ask ‘who is this?’

 

“Good to be back,” Carter said. He’d parted company with Sam downstairs, leaving her in the tech rooms to play with the gadget they’d just aquired from some new allies. “Afternoon,” he told Landy as he sat down. He didn’t say anything to the one Tok’ra in the room.

 

“First you bring in him,” Landy said, refering to the Tok’ra, “and now him?” refering to Jacob. “Are you trying to overawe me here?” sounding not impressed at all.

 

Jacob shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I just got back.”

 

Hammond sounded equally blunt, just as much as Landy. “You did ask to be let in on what the stargate was,” omitting certain details from Jacob’s earshot -- he’d bring his friend up to speed later...soon, possibly.

 

“True,” she conceeded. “Now, about Colonel O’Neill?”

 

“You just missed him. He was sent to explore a planet this morning.”

 

“I trust you’ll let me speak with him once he returns.”

 

“Once he’s been cleared by the Infirmary, you’re welcome to try getting him to talk.”

 

Landy nodded. “Done.” She remembered how difficult it was to get Bourne to tell anyone something he didn’t want to volunteer.

 

~~

Swimming in the carved-out pool, Mot half-regarded the incipient fiasco up on the surface of this comfortable planet. Mot had been tasked with guarding what lay within this world. Mot cared nothing for the Eye of Tiamat. Mot saw the Eye as a nothing, as a worthless trinket.

 

Millenia ago, Baal had fought Mot. All but the smallest elements of Mot-ness had been destroyed. _Torn to pieces_ said some primate mythologies.

 

Baal had not won, therefore. Mot’s prize remained still within the possession of Mot.

 

And Mot had no plans of surrendering it.

 

Mot cared nothing for the Eye of Tiamat . . . but Mot knew that trespassers would seek out Mot’s treasure. That, Mot could not allow. Mot sent forth Mot’s army.

 

~~

Landy had just left the room, citing a need to use the restroom. An SP had been assigned to escort her down there.

 

Only now did Jacob let Selmac talk. “And where have you been, Nure?”

 

“I have been here for the last two local days,” Nure replied, “Telling the Generals here of what riches could be found on a return journey to Per-Tiamat.”

 

Jacob nearly dropped the glass of water he’d been drinking, and Selmac nearly crushed that glass in one hand -- between the two of them, they kept from making a mess . . . though it didn’t stop either of them from spraying the water that had nearly gone down their throat to (instead) across the table. “Why?” Jacob asked. “Why in God’s Name --” and Selmac jumped in, “-- and in the name of the Penultimate Destroyer -- would you reccomend Per-Tiamat?”

 

“I take it that there is a problem with this world?” Chekov asked, inquiring.

 

“Da,” Jacob said. “Tiamat, for one.”

 

“Hence the name?” Hammond asked.

 

Jacob nodded. “Look, the Tok’ra, for whatever reason, usually use the names given to Goa’uld worlds by the Goa’uld...just like they use SGC names for SGC worlds. The ‘Per-’ means ‘land of’. And whoever finds the world, or holds it the longest, gets the planet named after them.”

 

“Would that not have led to a lot of, for example, Per-Ra worlds?” Chekov asked.

 

“It would’ve, ‘cept for the fact that the System Lords are feudal -- a dominant System Lord will hand out worlds to his loyal supporters, like deeding land in the Middle Ages.”

 

“And there is the problem,” Selmac said, “of Mot.”

 

“Who is this Mot?”

 

“Trouble.” A breath. “Contrary to what one might think, Goa’uld evolution was no more linear than Human evolution.”

 

“The difference being,” said a nodding Nure, “that the cladistic siblings of Humans do not survive on any worlds.

 

“For over two thousand years,” Nure said, “even the Goa’uld have feared that world. Think, Jacob, think what wonders we could find there! Imagine if we could form an alliance with the inhabitants, against the System Lords.” A breath.

 

Jacob’s eyes flared. As one, he and Selmac threatened: “I swear, kid, by anything you want’a consider holy, that if anything happens to that team . . . I’ll hand you over to the System Lords myself!”

 

~~=

“Go!” shouted Jack, as the team started to run down the -- one-part road, one-part sidewalk -- towards the ruins. “Double-time!”

 

They ran, one alongside another. Unfortunately, the pathway wasn’t overly wide. One of Jack’s feet struck down on the ground outside the designated pathway. As solid as the ground was, as baked flat as it was, there were still areas where the ‘topsoil’ was thin. And, like ice in the midst of winter, if its thin enough, Jack can fall through it.

 

And he did, tucking in on himself as he tumbled, as there were no roots or handholds to grab and reach for.

 

Tolinev stopped running first, then Bourne and Navorsky. “I should -”

 

“I’ll get him,” Bourne volunteered for his own reasons, interupting Tolinev. A perfect time, he hoped, to get the answers he needed out of O’Neill. “Keep going,” he said.

 

Navorsky did just that, looking grateful just to get away from the bugs. Tolinev lingered a few seconds longer, mentally saying an Orthodox prayer for Jack’s well-being, and then ran towards the ruins as per orders.

 

Meanwhiles, Jack was tumbling over and over again, falling further and further still. Finally, the ground angled into a horizontal surface, and Jack came to an abrupt halt motionwise.

 

Bourne, on the other hand, was skidding down that same slope, keeping on his feet, his motions somewhere between skiing and putting on the brakes; also keeping from banging his skull against the ceiling. When he was about to crash into Jack, who was starting to get up, Jason leaped over Jack, landing on the other side.

 

“Came down here ta help, did you?” Jack asked.

 

“Why else?” Jason asked.

 

Jack nodded. “I appreciate it,” his hand landed on Bourne’s shoulder. Bourne swatted it away; and, in reflexive action, Jack countered that move with one of his own. Back and forth, strike and counterstrike and parry and riposte. Then, each of them grapped one-handedly the throat of the other. “Not bad,” Jack said.

 

“Just warming up,” Bourne said.

 

“My thoughts exactly,” and was about to suggest that they save this for later, and focus on the mission right now, when something happened to prevent that idea: Underground, the ground wasn’t as solidly baked as the surface had been...and the ground beneath Jack gave way.

 

Beneath where Jack hung, there was a swimming pool of things that looked like very large, very active electric eels. And the only thing that was keeping Jack from falling, was Bourne’s grip on Jack’s neck; and Jack’s grip on Bourne’s neck.

 

~~

Navorsky stopped. “Keep moving!” Tolinev ordered him.

 

“But - what of them?” Navorsky asked. “We should go back and -”

 

‘I would love to go back and help Jack,’ Tolinev thought to herself. ‘But,’ “We have our orders.” ‘With the luck he is renowned for, I am sure Jack will find a safe place to await my - our - return.’

 

“Da.”

 

They resumed running.

 

~~

Jack fell into the water.

 

He could move, hell, he tried to swim for the closest shore, but the electricity surging through the waters was making that difficult. The white flashes pulsed in his vision, just like all those zats, but this time, the flashes led to something.

 

To memories..

 

=Furious training, first normal, then Black Ops, then Lot=

 

=The Soviet flag, lined up in his crosshairs=

 

=Narrowly missing the chance to assassinate Castro=

 

=Sitting at home, suddenly hearing his gun go off=

 

=Seeing the throngs in the Infirmary, knowing that there’d be some team reshuffling, at least for the short term; Anubis was having a worse effect on the SGC than Apophis had=

 

=Hammond summoning up the SGC folks available, calling for volunteers=

 

=Seeing just whom he’d been teamed with: Tolinev, Navorsky, and Bourne=

 

=Hanging in mid-air, gripped only by one hand, looking into Bourne’s eyes...seeing a younger reflection of himself=

 

=Falling towards the water=

 

Finally, reaching the shore, such as it was: half a foot of muddy shelf only a few centimeters above the waterline. The shelf went for a few yards like that, and then it connected with another large tunnel. ‘What uses the tunnels?’ Jack wondered. ‘Bugs don’t need tunnels larger than they are...and these eels don’t look like they can get up and walk around...’

 

And that was when he saw one of the eels swimming furiously towards him, fanged mouth open, eyes glowing luminesently.

 

~~

Agnessa Tolinev didn’t need Navorsky to point out to her that trouble was approaching now from ahead: she could see that for herself. Two people, likely jaffa, running towards them.

 

“Orders?” Navorsky asked.

 

“Keep running. Fire if fired upon.”

 

“And if they don’t?”

 

“Let them run past you. Remember what’s behind us?”

 

Chuckling, “Probably a jaffa thing,” Navorsky said, “sacrificing themselves to bugs.”

 

“Perhaps,” Tolinev said.

 

~~=

EARTH:

 

The mission was completed, a tactical success, though the humans hadn’t brought back any goodies beyond a closer comradarie...and deeper affection surfacing between Jack and Agnessa.

 

As the others kept watch on the outside of the building -- posing as the guards they’d disabled -- Jack went inside to talk to a certain somebody...personally.

 

The house, Jack found, was oddly empty. Had he not felt assured that his target was in here, he’d call the whole thing off. What game was his quarry playing?

 

He recalled a conversation on that other planet...

 

_“Who’s this ‘Mot’?” Jack asked.

 

_“Long ago, before the time of the First Goa’uld Empire,” Hanniyu said; “before even the jaffa were brought into being, a horrid and terrible war wracked the goa’uld.”

 

_“It happens.”

 

_“Not even you Tauri have shaken the goa’uld as much as their own ancient war had done. Some say the war was over hosts, others say resources, others say asthetics...Quetzalcoatl, Chac, Mirmir, and Mot were a few of the ones who left the Goa’uld Race, seeking other places.”

 

_“What’d they find?”

 

_“None know.”

 

_“C’mon.”

 

_“That is what I know.”_

 

Even Kinsey’s dog was missing.

 

But Kinsey wasn’t missing: he was reclining on his couch, seemingly unaware of anything as he enjoyed an ice hockey game.

 

Jack already had his gun out, and he aimed it at Kinsey’s skull, stopping just short of resting the muzzle-tip on Kinsey -- there was a hunch that Bourne’d voiced on the way over here.

 

“Afternoon, Colonel O’Neill,” Kinsey said as conversationally as he’d greet the President. “Nice of you to join me, Colonel,” Kinsey said, not turning around, not tensing up; just continuing to relax on his couch. “Care for a drink?”

 

“Not thirsty.”

 

“Suit yourself.” Kinsey didn’t shrug -- certainly not with O’Neill’s gun so close. “And, if you’re wondering, no, there are no cameras in my house.”

 

“There’s a surprise.” ‘Really.’

 

“I didn’t see a need for them.”

 

“With as many enemies as you have?” Jack asked.

 

“Only three people can walk across my property without authorization -- and all three are like you.”

 

“I’m one of the three,” Jack said.

 

“That you are.”

 

“And you’re the fourth.”

 

“You caught on,” Kinsey said. “I was rather hoping you would.”

 

“Really? Ya don’t say.”

 

“I do say, Colonel. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I dislike how you’re in the Stargate Program.”

 

“You hate the Stargate itself, Kinsey; don’t try pinning it on me.”

 

“More than the ‘gate itself, I think that you should be free...you and Tolinev; free like myself, Bourne, and what few others of us remain.”

 

‘Wonder if Martin ever had a conversation like this,’ Jack wondered. “So if I leave the SGC, you’ll leave them alone?”

 

“I can do better than that.”

“Prove it.”

“You already know that I’m going to be running for President,” Kinsey said.

“And I know I’m sure not gonna vote for you.”

“Considering who I’d be running against, Colonel, you may change your tune.”

“I doubt that.”

Kinsey reached down to his briefcase. “A piece of paper, Colonel...that’s all.” Slowly, he pulled the paper from the briefcase, and held it out to Jack. “A list of bills and motions put forth by Senator Edgar Gordon, my sole competition for the upcoming Presidential race.”

Jack took the paper, not wavering his gunsights. “Enlighten me: what’m I looking for?” ‘Looks like stuff about gun control, job promoting, things like that. Good stuff.’

“Things that threaten the existance of your stargate program.”

“Don’t see the SGC anywhere on here.”

“Section two,” Kinsey specified. “His repeated support for the tightest restrictions on nuclear technology -- and anything that might be more powerful. I believe naquadah and naquadriah falls into that category. Section four - supporting bills requiring prospective employees anywhere in the country to be full citizens of this country. I don’t recall seeing any documentation that Teal’c, Quinn, or any of the other aliens you’ve brought to this planet are naturalized, even now. Shall I continue clarifying the list for you?”

“No,” Jack said. Sighing, “So I won’t vote for either of you.”

“I won’t sweeten the pot, Colonel,” Kinsey said. “I was already preparing to offer you the position of Vice President before you broke into my house.”

“And now the offer’s a no-go?” Jack asked. “How will I survive?” sarcastically.

“Should you accept the job as Vice President,” Kinsey said, “I’ll hand over to you all the management of the stargate and related programs, to run them as you see fit. You have my word, Colonel, that I won’t interfere.”

Having doubts about Kinsey’s word, “And in return?” ‘Time to see how the other shoe sounds.’

“In exchange, all I ask is that you not interfere with what I’m going to do, between now and when the votes are counted.” Almost sensing O’Neill’s hesitation, Kinsey added, “I certainly won’t reveal the stargate to the world.”

“That’s a comfort.” Jack lowered the gun. “I could always refuse. Who’d vote for you, anyway?”

“Is that a chance you’re willing to take, Colonel?” Kinsey asked. “Without you as my Vice President, I’d have to oversee the Stargate Program myself...and you can guess the things I would do.”

“Oh yeah.” Jack thought it over. ‘Just in case...but I really doubt anybody’d vote for him.’ “You’ve got a deal.”

~~~~~

the end of this story...next, read the O’Neill drabble.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted at the jackfic.net archives which are in danger of closing, for lack of funds.


End file.
